


we'll make heaven a place on earth

by owilde



Series: smalltown girls (80's violentine) [4]
Category: The Walking Dead (Telltale Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 80's, Established Relationship, F/F, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Prom, Romance, Slow Dancing, Wordcount: 5.000-10.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-22
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-08-05 21:11:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16375076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/owilde/pseuds/owilde
Summary: In the reality of things, in 1987, Violet can't take Clementine to the prom with her.She finds a way around it, though.





	we'll make heaven a place on earth

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so... yes. Prom fic. In the 80's. With my girls. I had a blast writing this. Thank you to [Vodnici](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vodnici) for being a sweetie and proofreading this! :')
> 
> Title taken from Belinda Carlisle's "Heaven Is A Place On Earth"

The wind was starting to pick up, ruffling Violet’s hair and making her shiver. It was a chilly April night, approaching twelve. The street around her was empty, all the houses dark. They were asleep, like sensible people should be. Another strong gust of wind, and Violet sniffled, mentally berating herself for even doing this.

She stared angrily at the mix tape in her hands. It was just a simple cassette, with a one-word question written on with black marker; ugly block letters that made Violet cringe. She could’ve made a better effort with the scripture. She could’ve made a better effort with all of this, really, or so she thought. When was the last time she’d really put her energy into something? She couldn’t remember.

It was dumb. She was holding the cassette, and a red rose that kept pricking the skin on her fingers, leaving irritated red splotches behind. She was standing outside Clementine’s house, looking up towards the window where Clementine would still be awake, presumably pouring over homework. The lights were on, but the rest of the house had already fallen asleep.

Violet sighed, and braced herself. This wasn’t anything difficult. She took a few steps towards the ladders leading beside the lean-to by Clementine’s window, and stopped, blinking at her full hands. “Shit,” she mumbled, realizing the clear absence of a bag. “Shit.”

She stuffed the cassette into her jean pockets and pressed the rose between her teeth, and started her climb towards the window. Like she was the fucking prince from Rapunzel, or some shit. Clementine wouldn’t have needed rescuing in that scenario, though, that Violet was sure of.

Clementine never noticed her, at first. Violet placed the rose out of sight and rapped her knuckles against the window, crouched dangerously on the small spot of tiles. She hoped the neighbors were really all asleep, or at least had their blinds shut.

She could see Clementine’s lips curl into a familiar smile at the sight of her, and felt warm all over. How long ago had it been, when she’d still thought all of this was out of her reach? And now here they were.

“Hey,” Clementine greeted as she pushed the window open for Violet to slip inside. “I didn’t know you were coming over. Has something happened?”

Violet blinked at her, rolling the rose over behind her back. She didn’t know why she felt so nervous. Clementine was looking at her expectantly – she’d tied her hair up, and had already changed into her pajamas. This wasn’t the ideal romantic set-up.

“Uh,” Violet started, feeling her heartbeat against her throat. “Here.” She extended the rose towards Clementine. “It’s for you.”

Clementine took it, blinking in confusion. “Okay?”

Violet reached for the cassette. “And also, uh, this.”

The rose disappeared behind Clementine and on to her desk. She turned around to take the cassette, turning it over to read the text – and then went eerily still. Her eyes were trained on it, and her breath had hitched a little, just noticeable enough to Violet, who was now panicking.

“You don’t have to,” she offered, wringing her hands nervously. “I just thought, uh… you know. Since you said you’ve always wanted to go. But it’s not like we have to. Or I mean – I don’t know.”

Clementine lifted her eyes to look at her, finally breaking into a smile. “Prom?”

Violet’s heart flipped unnecessarily. “Yeah.”

“Vi, I – I’d love to,” Clementine started. Her smile slowly turned a shade sadder. “But I don’t know if we’d be allowed to.”

Violet cleared her throat, pointedly looking away. She knew they weren’t. She knew her parents would flip, and the school would flip, and probably Clementine’s parents, too – and she knew they wouldn’t be allowed in the gym, most likely, or that even if they were, it would be a terrible experience by all accounts, an endless narrative of jabs and pointed looks and shouts, and she would never, ever put Clementine through that. She knew well enough.

“Yeah,” she said, staring at the threads of Clementine’s carpet. “But I kinda thought we could have our own prom?” She hated that she phrased it like a question, and pushed on. “I mean, um. My parents will be out of town, and so, I thought we could do something before – like, a date, or whatever – and then go back to my parents’, and… and have our own dance. With that tape. Which is why you can’t play it yet, it’ll be a surprise.” She glanced up at Clementine, biting her lower lip. “Does that sound… totally not mental?”

For a while, Clementine said nothing. Her face was glowing from the light of her desk lamp, her eyes warm and surprised and oddly tender. She shot the cassette another look, her thumb brushing over the word ‘Prom?’ written there, resting on top of the small heart Violet had drawn. She opened her mouth, then closed it, opened it again.

“Vi, that sounds…” She stopped, and huffed a disbelieving laugh, stepping closer. “You’d go through all that trouble for me?”

Violet’s hands sneaked almost instinctively around Clementine’s waist the closer she got, while Clementine’s wound around her shoulders, wrists crossed behind Violet’s back. “Well, yeah,” she said. Her eyes flickered to Clementine’s lips and then back. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Clementine echoed. “Well, in that case, that sounds like the best prom I could ask for. I’d love to go.”

“You would?” Violet grinned, a wave of relief washing over her. “Next Saturday, then. I’ll pick you up at six, and you can wear whatever the hell you want, you’ll look good anyway–”

Clementine cut her off with a kiss. Violet melted into it, feeling her eyes fall shut. Life still managed to positively surprise her, sometimes.

The weekend passed by in a haze. Violet kept asking her parents about their trip, to confirm that they were going. If they got suspicious, they didn’t say – or maybe they just wanted to live in denial. That seemed to be their modus operandi these days.

On Sunday, she phoned Clementine, going as far from the living room as the cord would allow her. Her parents didn’t exactly know she was still seeing Clementine. She’d told them she’d broken it off, that it had been a dumb mistake and a phase – because even if just saying the words made Violet’s heart break, she still had to live in the house.

It wasn’t fair on any of them. She didn’t want to lie, her parents didn’t want to live with a gay daughter, and Clementine… Clementine deserved more than being reduced to a secret. But Violet couldn’t do anything about the situation, not before she’d moved out, and so it was easier to keep them in the dark.

She had to talk in hushed tones and sometimes interject with a loud, “Yeah, _Louis_ , thank you so much for your help with math” to keep them off her back, but it had worked so far. And when Clementine whispered, “I love you”, Violet whispered it back, before going back to being what her parents wanted to see.

Louis seemed to find the entire prom thing very amusing.

They were sitting in an English class the next Monday, tucked away in the far corner by the windows. Violet was pouring over their assignment, answering short essay questions on Lord of the Flies, while Louis alternated between scribbling notes and shooting amused looks her way.

Violet was going to ignore it. At this point, ignoring Louis’ dumb shit was like second nature to her. But when he glanced at her for the fifth time, and giggled slightly under his breath, Violet rolled her eyes and turned to look at him.

“Yes?” She asked. She made the mistake of looking at his notebook, where he’d written VIOLET + CLEMENTINE inside a massive heart. The right side of the heart overlapped with his paragraph about Jack’s compulsive need for authority. “What the hell is that?”

“Hmm?” Louis added wings to the heart. “Oh, _this_? Nothing much.”

“Why,” Violet managed through gritted teeth, “do you keep looking at me?”

Louis’ smile turned wider. He kept his eyes on the stupid heart, now adding sparkles. “I heard it through the grapevine that you asked Clem to go to prom,” he said. “Imagine that. I feel like this is all thanks to me, you know?”

Violet frowned at him. “How would it be thanks to you?”

“Since I made that bet with you,” Louis explained. “Sparked you into action, so to speak. I’m like… cupid.”

Violet couldn’t help but sigh. She hated that he was, at least partially, right. But it wasn’t like she was ever going to admit that to him, so she settled for, “Sure, Lou. Totally like the fucking cupid.”

They fell into a comfortable silence for a short while. Violet managed to get through two more questions, doing a not-completely-terrible job of answering them, before she sighed again and let her forehead thud against the desk. She groaned, and could feel Louis stare at her.

“Vi?”

“Ugh,” she said, and turned her head to be able to speak, but still leaning against the pale wood surface. It was better to get it over with quick, like ripping off a plaster. “I need to borrow your car.”

Louis turned from concerned to amused in two seconds flat, grinning at her like he’d won the lottery or snatched an A+ from an exam. “Oh?” His tone oozed smugness.

Violet closed her eyes, pressing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and index finger like she was driving off a headache. “Yeah, my parents are going to be out of town – and it’s not like my father would trust me with his car, anyway – and I can’t exactly pick Clem up with like, a fucking bike.”

“Wouldn’t it be so cute?” He asked. “Get a tandem bike. It’d be a rad couple experience.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“You know I speak the truth.” He paused. “But yeah, you can have my car. I’m not going to prom, anyway.”

Violet’s eyes flew open. She looked at him, frowning again. “Why not?”

Louis shrugged, looking vaguely uncomfortable. A spark of worry ignited in Violet’s chest, wrapping its arms around her. “Lou?”

“Eh,” he shrugged, eyes on his notebook. “There’s really no one I want to go with, and besides… even if there were – and I’m not saying there _is_ , but you know, _if_ there were – it’s not exactly possible.”

“Oh.” Violet sat up slowly, looking away too. Something about eye contact made her feel weird. She could see the line of trees through the window, shaking gently with the wind. “Because of…”

“Yeah,” Louis replied to her unspoken question. When Violet turned to look at him, he was smiling sadly. It was an odd look on him. He was silent for a while, contemplating something, and then glanced around them to make sure no one was listening. “I would’ve taken James,” he said quietly.

Violet had to think for a while to connect a face to the name. “The new kid?”

Louis cracked a smile, which looked better on him, and rolled his eyes, which made Violet’s anxiety settle. “New,” he echoed. “He started almost half a year ago.”

Violet shrugged, but couldn’t help her smile. “Yeah, so, new.” She found herself writing L + J on her notebook and stopped abruptly, scratching it out. “So, uh… you like him?”

“Thought that was pretty obvious,” Louis drawled. “From, like, the whole prom thing.”

And just like that, the atmosphere felt right again. Violet smiled, tucking her hair behind her ears. “Just trying to get a clear picture of the situation,” she said. “Maybe I’ll get to be cupid, too.”

Her smile deepened at Louis’ terrified expression. “Don’t you dare,” he said.

Violet hummed noncommitedly, and they spent the rest of the class exchanging jabs about their respective love lives – or lack thereof.

Violet got home, only to be greeted by the usual unenthusiastic “Hello”. She didn’t mind, really – if her father wanted to show no fucking interest, all the better for her. It made lying that much easier. It was her mom she was more annoyed with – her complete inaction, her infuriating passiveness.

She hadn’t even said anything about the whole gay thing. Nothing positive, nothing negative, fucking _nothing_. Like it didn’t even exist. Like if none of them mentioned it, maybe it’d go away.

She wasn’t sure if it was better or worse than her father’s crude words and insults.

Violet stayed up that night, thinking about Louis. And James. She vaguely recalled seeing him around in the hallways, starting sometime around last fall. She’d been a little preoccupied, being infatuated with Clementine and generally disinterested in most of the guy populace at school, but now that she thought about it, she remembered.

He was a quiet kid. Hung out with Louis and some other people, sometimes smiled at Clementine or nodded in a greeting. He didn’t stand out in any particular way.

Violet rolled over in bed, reaching out to hug her pillow. She wondered if he was queer. She wondered if Louis had a chance. She hoped he did, but on the other hand, she hoped not, because for all the good it brought, there was a whole lot of bullshit, too.

Yes, Violet got to kiss Clementine, and hold her hand, and tell her she loved her. But inside, behind closed doors and away from prying ears. When she thought of telling her parents she’d lied about the break up, and everything else, her stomach curled in panic at the thought of conversion camps, or worse. When she thought of the future, she couldn’t picture it getting better or easier – sure, they protested. Sure, they yelled and shouted and stomped their feet and went up to the White House to scream their lungs out about the injustice of it all.

But was it changing anything? There were still people dying across the country. Violet could kiss Clementine until she was breathless, but she didn’t know how they were going to last. She wanted them to – she would’ve done anything for them to. But she just didn’t know.

She didn’t know fucking _anything_.

She fell asleep and dreamed of hurt and violence, and somewhere buried deep within, a small spark of hope she almost reached, just before waking up.

On Friday, her parents waved her goodbye before rolling away down the driveway and further down the street, disappearing into the night. Violet stayed by the door, keeping her eyes on the car for as long as she could see, before slamming the door shut and running to the phone.

The dial rang seven times before Clementine picked up.

“Hi, it’s Clementine here,” she said, and Violet could almost picture her twirling the cord around her finger.

“Hey,” she said softly. “They’re gone.”

“Oh!” There was a pause, and some rustling. “Okay, I moved down the hallway.” Another pause, and then, a quieter, warmer, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Violet repeated, smiling. She sunk down to the floor, leaning her back against the wall. “I, uh, missed you.”

“You saw me less than three hours ago,” Clementine said, but she sounded amused. “Oh, yeah – I told my parents about tomorrow.”

Violet blinked at the opposite wall, surprised. She had expected for Clem to lie to them – to say she was going to the prom with some guy. Clementine had told her her parents thought her thing with Violet wasn’t real – and then she’d said she’d just have to prove them wrong over time, no matter how long it took.

That had left Violet feeling warm and fuzzy for a long time.

“What… What did you say?” She asked, pulling her knees up to rest her chin on them.

“That you were taking me to the prom,” Clementine said. “And they said that it wouldn’t be allowed, and I said that I knew, but that we had other plans. And my dad asked me if I liked you.”

Violet couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “What a dweeb.”

“Yeah,” Clementine agreed. “Anyhow, I said, yeah, obviously I do – she’s my girlfriend. And they kind of went silent, and then my mom asked if I’m going to still be seeing you after we graduate. So I said yes, if she doesn’t get sick of me–”

“I could never,” Violet vowed.

“–well, I hope so – but then she just said, okay, I hope you have fun at prom. And that was that.”

“Huh.” Violet wasn’t sure what to make of it. “So, when I pick you up tomorrow, with my sweet ride that’s totally not Louis’, they won’t freak?”

“They won’t,” Clementine assured her. “They’re chill. I think.”

“Huh,” Violet said again. She thought of her own parents, their impenetrable silence and disapproval. “That’s good. I’m glad.”

They talked for a few hours, with Clementine probing for details of the next day and Violet adamantly refusing to share any, before they hung up. Violet slept better than she had in a long while, comforted by the emptiness of the house around her.

Saturday morning was cold and foggy. Violet stared out the window, her lips pursed. She’d been rooting for sunshine, just for this one day. Or even cloudy and clear. But no – the mist curled around the street lamps, rising up too high and too thick.

It didn’t dissipate throughout the day, and neither did Violet’s nerves. At three in the afternoon, she found herself pacing in front of her father’s closet, eyeing his dress shirts. They’d be too big on her, but she could roll the sleeves and tuck the shirt in. She had black pants that weren’t too inappropriate for the occasion, and she could borrow her mom’s blazer for a jacket.

It was shabby, but it was very Violet. She dressed up and stared at her reflection through the long window in her room, twisting and turning to catch all angles. It wasn’t too bad, all things considered. Not too bad at all.

Her stomach was a knot of bundled nerves as she turned the ignition on in Louis’ car and felt it purr to life. She was too early – it was only half past five, and the drive over to Clementine’s didn’t take that long. But better early than late, and besides, now she’d have less time to pace around their living room, anxiously watching and analyzing the decorations she’d put up.

She hummed along to the song playing on the radio, tapping her fingers against the wheel in the pattern of the drums. It was the new Starship song, an alright jam but nothing special– Violet took deep breaths, noticing her hands were shaking slightly. Why was she so nervous? This wasn’t even their first date. This was just… their prom.

Violet thought about how Louis was doing, and hoped he wasn’t lonely tonight. Maybe he’d find his way to school regardless – Violet didn’t think you had to have a date just to have fun at prom. Wasn’t it supposed to be about shit like the school spirit and getting illegally drunk and making out with the quarterback in the back seat of your car? Who needed a date for that, anyway?

She pulled on to the driveway, her heart thudding loudly in her chest, and felt her palms sweat. She killed the ignition and sat still, counting to ten in her head, before she grabbed her bouquet of flowers and left the car.

She could do this. This was just Clementine.

But when she knocked on the door, it was Clementine’s dad who opened it. Violet froze, her mouth open in an abandoned greeting, before she managed, “Uh, good evening. I’m here for Clementine.”

“Yes,” Ed said, “I know.” He didn’t sound mad. He was eyeing Violet up and down, and she felt the sudden urge to fix a tie she wasn’t even wearing. “Come on in, then,” he eventually said, and stepped aside to let Violet enter.

Violet had been in their house before, but it had been a while since she’d entered through an actual door and not Clementine’s window. She glanced around the entrance hall, spied Clementine’s shoes and the jacket she refused to wear. She followed Ed further into the house and to the living room, where Diana was doing a crossword puzzle with the TV softly playing in the background.

She looked up as Ed and Violet entered, and smiled warmly. “Hello, Violet,” she greeted, setting her magazine down beside her.

“Hey,” Violet said, wringing her hands. “Or, hello. Good evening.” She looked at the flowers, feeling helpless. “I brought these, so if you have like, a vase or something…”

Ed glanced between them, and said, “I’ll go check if Clementine needs any help with her dress,” before disappearing upstairs.

“You can sit down, and put the flowers on the table,” Diana said, amused. She patted the free spot on the couch. Violet did as told, if only so that her knees couldn’t buckle under her. The magazine rested between them, like a buffer zone.

They sat in silence for a while. Violet kept her eyes on the TV screen, where a re-run of a Golden Girls episode was playing. Then Diana cleared her throat, and Violet turned to look at her, probably resembling a deer caught in headlights.

“Violet,” she started, looking down at the magazine. “I know we’ve been a little… well. This hasn’t been easy. Clementine’s never – showed interest in anyone, before, and we didn’t think it would be…”

“Someone like me?” Violet filled in.

Diana smiled, looking up at her. “Yes. But it has been sometime now, and I believe that Clementine is old enough to make her own decisions. If this is who she is, and wants to be, then there’s nothing we can do to stop that. She’s so stubborn, you know.”

Violet sensed the edge in her words, and felt her stomach curl a little. “I know.”

“She’s very adamant upon seeing you,” Diana said. She looked curiously at Violet. “I can’t pretend to understand it, but I can at least let her live her life as she wishes. And you do seem like a sweet girl.”

Violet wouldn’t have used those words to describe herself, not in a million years, but she simply nodded. “Thank you. I’m–”

But before she could finish, the stairs creaked, and Violet turned to look. Her breath caught in her throat.

Clementine was making her way down the stairs, holding on to her dad’s shoulder for support. She was wearing a tea-length dark red dress, with ruffles on the waist and a double layered bell skirt. Her shoes were a matching shade, with a little bit of heel – she’d probably be taller than Violet. Her hair was pinned up, some strands falling to frame her face.

“You…” Violet started, standing up. Her knees felt weak. “Uh, you look – great.”

Great didn’t even begin to cover it, but Violet was acutely aware of Diana and Ed’s presence in the room. Clementine smiled at her, eyes crinkled. “You, too. I like the shirt.”

Violet glanced down at her father’s white dress shirt, tucked into her pants. “Thanks.”

Clementine reached the end of the stairs, and glanced at her mom. “I’ll see you later.”

Diana smiled. “Have a nice evening, honey,” she said. “You too, Violet.”

Violet shot her a slightly pained smile. “Thank you, uh, you – you too.”

Ed walked them over to the door. He watched as Violet helped Clementine into her coat and opened the door for her, his arms crossed. Clementine was already out the door when he said, quietly, “Give my daughter an amazing prom night, will you?”

Violet turned her head back to look at him. “I will.”

Ed nodded, satisfied. “Good, then.” He raised his voice. “Have a nice night, sweetie!”

Clementine called out her thanks, and then Violet closed the door behind her. They didn’t speak before they were both sitting in the car, seat belts on – and then they broke into laughter at the same time. Violet pressed her forehead against the wheel, eyes closed.

“Jesus,” she said. “That was a lot.”

“I’m sorry,” Clementine managed between giggles. “I told them to just be normal.”

Violet straightened her back, sighing. She couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s alright. Still miles better than my parents, you know.” She paused, glancing at Clementine. “You look fucking wicked, Clem.”

Clementine smiled softly, fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “Well, I didn’t want to be under dressed. Where are we going, anyway?”

Violet turned the car on, and began reversing out the driveway. “We,” she started, craning her neck to look through the rear window, “are going to have dinner, and then we’re going to go to my place, and have our own prom.”

“That sounds good with me,” Clem pronounced, and they drove off towards Atlanta.

It was a little over a thirty-minute drive, which wasn’t a steep price to pay for a night where they didn’t have to listen to every single person in town have an opinion on what they were doing. Violet had made calls earlier that week, and had discovered a place that operated largely as a bar-slash-restaurant, where they wouldn’t have to be nervous about holding hands.

It was tucked away on a busy street, squeezed between two gay bars that looked inconspicuous enough to an out looker. Violet parked the car and shot a quick prayer to anyone that was listening that nothing would happen to it, before tugging Clementine towards the restaurant.

They got a booth by the corner, secluded from the rest of the place. It was quiet and cozy, their own little nook.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” Clementine said after they’d placed their orders. “Honestly, I wouldn’t have minded just the regular prom. We could’ve pretended to go as friends.”

Violet quirked a brow. “The entire school knows we’re together,” she pointed out. “And I thought… this would be nice, you know. Something special. But if it’s too much, we don’t have to–”

“No,” Clem hurried to say. She reached over the table to place her hand on Violet’s. “I love this. I love you. I just meant… We could’ve done anything, and it still would’ve been special, because it’s with _you_.”

Violet blinked. Her throat felt dry. “That’s… _Clem_.”

She shrugged. “It’s true.”

Violet didn’t know how she’d gotten so lucky as to have all this. Sure, her parents were an ugly stain she couldn’t scrub away, but she got to have her friends, she got to have Clementine – Clementine, who was too good for her. Clementine, who said shit like this and made Violet’s heart flip and twist.

“Yeah,” she said, weakly. “Okay.”

They ate while talking away about everything and nothing at all. No one bothered them. No one batted an eye, either, when Violet leaned across the table to kiss Clementine, and brushed her fallen strand of hair behind her ear.

It had gotten pitch-black outside by the time they left. Their headlights cut through the dark like a knife, shining against the wet asphalt after a spring shower. Violet kept her eyes on the road, but every now and then, on long stretches of straight road, she reached out to take Clementine’s hands and twine their fingers.

The lights were out in her house. Violet breathed a sigh of relief as she parked the car. Her parents hadn’t made an unplanned retreat back from their trip. She looked at Clementine. “You brought the cassette, right?”

Clementine nodded, lifting her bag slightly. “It’s here. And I haven’t listened to it yet.”

“Good.” Violet got out of the car and walked around it to open the door for Clementine, who rolled her eyes at the gesture, but got out regardless.

The door opened into a dark entrance hall. Violet had left a single light on in the hallway that lead to the living room, and it radiated a dim yellow halo. She locked the door behind them and took Clementine’s coat, hanging it beside her father’s, which felt oddly rebellious.

Clementine had trailed off towards the living room, brushing her fingers against the walls. “I don’t think I’ve been to your house since they found out,” she said conversationally, but there was tension behind her words.

“No,” Violet agreed. She grabbed a box of matches from the kitchen, and followed Clem to the living room. “They, uh, haven’t really allowed anyone over. Except, I don’t know, Louis. I guess they’re hoping that spending time with him would straighten me out, or something.”

She heard Clementine laugh. “That’s hilarious.”

Violet grinned. “I know, right?” She began lighting the candles she’d placed around the room as Clementine watched, amused.

“You went all out, huh?”

“Well, a little.” She straightened her back after the final candle and turned to face Clementine, extending her hand. “The cassette?”

Clementine reached into her bag to get it, and handed it over to Violet, who plopped it into her shitty radio, strategically placed for the sound to reverberate around the room. She hit play and took a step back as Foreigner started playing softly.

Violet took a mock bow and reached out for Clementine, a smile playing on her lips. “May I have this dance?”

Clementine was smiling as well, so wide it seemed impossible. She took Violet’s hand and stepped closer, sneaking her hands around Violet’s shoulders as Violet held her by the waist, so close she could smell Clementine’s perfume and shampoo, and possibly the hairspray she’d used. 

They swayed on their feet in the candle-lit room as the mix tape played in the background, Lou Gramm’s voice fading away and being replaced by Barbra Streisand. 

Clementine looked at Violet, searching for something in her eyes. Whatever she’d been looking for, it seemed she’d found it – her smile turned softer, more private. “Thank you,” she said quietly. “For all of this.”

Violet shrugged, averting her eyes as she felt her cheeks flush. “It wasn’t a problem. I just wanted to…” Her heart clenched uncomfortably. “We graduate soon, and neither of us really knows what’ll happen next, I guess. So, I wanted something – something to hold on to.”

When she gathered the courage to look back at Clementine, she was frowning slightly. “Something to hold on to?” She asked. “Vi, I – I’m not leaving you behind. You know that, right? I don’t care what my parents w ant , or what anybody wants. We’re in this together.”

“I know,” Violet amended. “I just… I’m just scared, okay? It’s scary, to be… us. You can’t play baseball if they know about me, and your scholarships–”

“Screw that,” Clementine interjected softly. “Screw that, Vi. We’ll show them. All of them. Together.”

Violet’s heart, which had begun beating too loud, too fast, settled a little. “Okay,” she agreed. “Together.  Forever?”

“Yes,” Clementine promised, and leaned closer to press her lips against Violet’s. She tasted a little like her lipstick, and like hope, all at once, and as the song switched on to Nothing’s Gonna Change My Love For You, Violet knew it to be true. 

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious, the songs they dance to that are mentioned are 1) Foreigner - I Want To Know What Love Is 2) Barbra Streisand - Woman In Love, and 3) Glenn Medeiros - Nothing's Gonna Change My Love For You.
> 
> Also, my gaming tumblr's @ rachelcmber, if you're curious about that, too!


End file.
